Hall of Fame
by missmarthanightingale
Summary: There is a girl, a druid girl. She is powerful, though she does not know it. She has no mother and she has no father. That's what the Druids say, and the Druids don't lie. You may wonder who this girl is. You would be right to, because she is very important. She is powerful and well loved and though she herself has no great destiny, she will shape the future. Her name is Branwen.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

In the forests of Camelot, there are many hidden secrets. The Crystal Cave is one of them; the King would surely be furious to know of its existence. The source of all magic, within Camelot's borders? Unacceptable! The Lake of Avalon is another, and very few know what happens _there_. There are others, of course. The hidden lairs of many magical beings, the resting places of countless magical artefacts. But we don't care about those, or at least, we don't _yet_. What we care about are the Druids hiding throughout the forests of Camelot. Their numerous camps, always ready to leave at the first sign of trouble from Camelot's soldiers. And one camp in particular . . .

* * *

There is a young girl, a druid girl. She is powerful, though she does not know it. She has no mother and she has no father. That's what the Druids say, and the Druids don't lie. Why would they? There's no reason to, after all. And it's not like she needs parents. She's perfectly happy without them. The Druids give her everything she needs. They are her family.

She has many mothers amongst them. She has just as many fathers. She has 5 brothers and 6 sisters. She has a home and the Druids teach her magic and she is never hungry. The entire forest is her backyard. She has all the animals as her playmates. She sings with the birds and runs with the deer and swims with the otters and she is _free_, or at least, she is as free as anyone can ever be under Uther's reign. So she is happy.

And of course there is Mordred. Mordred is her favourite brother (though of course Druids don't _have_ favourites, but she is young and not quite a Druid yet, so she is allowed to have a favourite). He is younger than her, but he loves her and she loves him and he always loves to watch her practice her magic and he swears that one day he will be able to do everything she can do. She promises that she will teach him everything that she knows when the Druids say that he is old enough, but it may be years before that happens because they started to teach her magic long before they taught the others, though none of her siblings know why. But what does it matter to them? The Druids surely have a reason, and the Druids are never wrong so why question them?

She is a pretty child, and will doubtlessly grow up to be a beautiful woman, but beauty was never that important to the Druids. She has long black hair and big grey eyes and full lips. She is of medium height and her skin is very pale, but not so pale that she looks sickly. Her looks are certainly enhanced by the life that radiates from her. She has grown up in the forest surrounded by life and it has seeped into her very bones and it has made her so very wonderful to be around. Once the Druids found an injured traveller in the forest. They healed him as best they could but when he woke and they told him that the bandits that had attacked him had killed all his fellows he seemed to lose the will to live. One day the girl went to see him and she brought him flowers. She stayed with him for hours and when she left he had a smile on his face for the first time in days. She visited him again the next day, and the next. Within a week he was on his feet and walking with her through the forest. The next week he left and the girl was sad to see him go but he told her that he had to go out into the world so that he could show people everything she had shown him. She didn't understand what he meant but the Druids did. She had shown him that there was always something to live for.

You may wonder who this girl is. You would be right to, because she is very important. She is very powerful and well loved and though she herself has no great destiny, she will shape the future. Her name is Branwen.

* * *

**AN:**

**So, this is my latest offering. I'm reinventing myself (sort of) and with any luck I will actually get somewhere with this story. I shouldn't have quite so much trouble with this one, because the story is pretty much completely planned out and all I need to do is actually write it.**

**So it starts off pretty innocent, but later (much later) it will involve things that deserve the rating T, so I thought I'd better label it as such right away. It sticks to the basic plot of Merlin as much as I can make it, but there are some pretty drastic changes.  
**

**I will try to update regularly, but I make absolutely no promises. I will _try_ though.**

**Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hope you like it.**

** Martha**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Branwen ran. She ran and ran and ran, using her knowledge of the woods around her and the aid of the animals and her magic and everything she could think of to help her escape but there were just so _many_ and she couldn't escape and if they caught her she would surely die and by the Gods, did they never give _up_?

She had been in the woods with Mordred. She had been entertaining him with her magic, making the leaves dance and the wind sing. He had conjured some little balls of light to join the dancing leaves when they had heard shouting from the camp. They had thought nothing of it – it was surely Jack, in trouble for playing yet another trick. It must have gone wrong though, considering how much noise there was. A minute passed and the noise didn't stop and they began to realise that there was something very wrong. Only seconds later a group of soldiers burst into the clearing and stopped for a moment at the display of magic before them. That moment was long enough for Branwen to see that they were from Camelot, throw a burst of white light at them, take Mordred's hand and _run_.

They came to their senses and quickly followed. Mordred and Branwen had the entire forest helping them, but the soldiers had sheer numbers and she soon found herself separated from Mordred but she could not stop until they were _gone_, and she could only pray that he was safe.

That was how she found herself fleeing through _her_ forest from these soldiers. The birds attacked them and the squirrels threw nuts and the boar charged them and the very _trees_ were coming alive to open a trail before her and close it straight after her and _still_ the soldiers followed her. They were certainly persistent. She hoped that the animals were not being hurt for her sake, but she worried that they were, for surely the soldiers would react to these creatures hindering their pursuit of the wicked Druid girl. They would think it sorcery, though truly it was more kindness and friendship, but soldiers of Camelot would never believe that. Sorcery! Such a terrible thing! Wicked! Evil! What had the Druids _ever_ done to deserve such a reputation?

* * *

It seemed hours before Branwen finally escaped them. Jumping off a cliff was risky, of course, but she had been left with little choice. The trees had caught her, as she hoped they would. They'd kept her hidden among their leaves when the soldiers searched for her body. They knew she was not dead, but they also knew that they had no hope of catching her now. They would tell their King, no doubt, of the druid girl who had enchanted the entire forest to defend her, but fortunately they had never actually seen her face, so their best description would be of a pale-skinned, dark-haired girl of average height. Not much to go on. The King would be furious.

She stayed hidden among the trees until dusk. She lay on the widest branch of an oak tree and watched as the sun left and the moon arrived. She saw the stars come out and smiled. She lingered for a while, reluctant to return and find out what had happened to her family. Soldiers from Camelot meant nothing good and there were surely some dead, perhaps Mordred among them. She should have stayed with him. He was only a child. She shouldn't have left him to fend for himself.

She cast her mind back over the past few years. Mordred was growing up, and so was she. She was of marriageable age now. She had stopped seeing the boys of her camp as brothers. She knew that Eoin had been thinking of courting her, before _he_ had arrived, and _he_ was definitely interested.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a squirrel tugging at her skirt. It chattered at her. She moved out of its way and jumped out of the tree. She should let the Druids know that she had escaped. They would be worried.

* * *

Even with the forest's help it took Branwen nearly an hour to find her way back to the camp. As she drew nearer, she could smell smoke and cooking meat. Her spirits lifted. Surely the attack could not have been so terrible if they were cooking dinner? As she drew nearer still, she could see the light from the fires. It was brighter than normal, but they sometimes had bonfires, for celebrations. They would certainly celebrate surviving an attack like this.

When she reached the camp, she was happy enough. They clearly had not suffered much, if everything was proceeding as normal. They had lost some, no doubt, but not many. They would grieve, of course, but they would recover.

She walked into the camp and screamed.

* * *

They were gone. All of them. Just gone.

They were barely recognizable. Many of the bodies had been burnt by the fires and the soldiers had mutilated those that weren't. They hadn't buried them. They hadn't even put out the fires.

What kind of monster did this? What kind of monster allowed this to happen?

There was no time for her to grieve, not now. She had to bury them. She had to clear up the camp, she had to hide it from the world, and she had to leave as soon as possible. She had to find somewhere safe before she could grieve, for the King would surely be after her and she could not hide from him without help.

She locked her rage and grief and horror away and got to work. She put out the fires and banished the smoke. She dug graves and buried what was left of her family in the centre of the camp. When she realised that the soldiers had left their comrades behind she felt fury rising up in her, but she banished it and buried them outside the camp, marking their graves as those of soldiers of Camelot, for when people came looking for them. She hoped that they would. Surely they were not _all_ monsters.

She was relieved not to find Mordred or Cerdan among them. Perhaps they had escaped? But she had no time to search for them. She would have to trust that they had found each other, for she knew that Cerdan would die before he allowed Mordred to be harmed.

She cleared away the remains of the camp, salvaging what she could and burning everything else. She regrew the burnt grass and conjured wildflowers over the graves. When she was done it was as though nothing had ever been there.

She frowned. This was her home. The camp had been there for more than 20 years. And now there wasn't a trace left of it. She should put something there, some reminder that it had existed. Proof that it was real, once, not just a memory in her head.

She thought back to one of the best memories she had. Midsummer's Eve, a few months ago. They had built a great bonfire and danced around it until the sun rose on Midsummer's Day. It had been a beautiful night. The sky had been clear and the moon had been full and the stars had shone brighter than ever before. Or perhaps that had been her happiness, making the world more beautiful than ever. After all, she had been with _him_, completely in love and ever so slightly drunk. She drew her magic to her fingertips and recreated the scene as best she could. Any who entered the clearing would find themselves in another world, a world that would never change or die. That would ensure that her family was never forgotten.

She hadn't found _his_ body either, though that didn't surprise her. He wasn't always there, after all. She should leave him a message, explaining what had happened, though the clearing was message enough. Perhaps one day she would see him again.

She took one last look at her home. She saw herself there, dancing with _him_. She smiled. They were so close together. She looked so happy.

But now dawn was approaching. It was time to go.

* * *

**AN:**

**Now the story begins!**

**You won't find out who _he_ is for some time, I'm afraid, but he will pop up again, I promise.**

**I know that Branwen seems rather cheerful, considering everyone she knows is probably dead, but she is something of an optimist, and Druids never seem terribly ****affected by this kind of thing in the show. I think it went against their beliefs in a way, though I'm not sure.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

** Martha**


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